


Merlin's Princess Bride

by fxndom_hoe



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, Arranged Marriage, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon is a Damsel in Distress, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Human Aithusa (Merlin), Human Kilgharrah (Merlin), Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Suicide, POV Alternating, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), POV Lancelot (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), POV Third Person, Pirate Merlin, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Swordfighting, Torture, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), arthur and merlin are in love, not graphic tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxndom_hoe/pseuds/fxndom_hoe
Summary: A retelling of The Princess Bride in which Merlin uses magic to save Prince Arthur from his kidnappers and prevent King Uther from forcing him into marriage.For Merlin BingoSquare Fill: I5—TV/Film/Book AU
Relationships: Elyan & Merlin (Merlin) mentioned, Gwen/Morgana (Merlin) mentioned, Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot & Percival (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: Merlin Bingo





	Merlin's Princess Bride

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed a lot of dialogue from the movie, so of course I'm obviously going to give credit to those writers. I also apologize for how poorly written this is, I'm sorry and I tried my best. This is the end result.  
> And yes, I did make Arthur a damsel in distress who needed to be saved by a knight in shining armor (or a pirate wizard dressed in all black, pirates are sexier anyway)  
> Applaud me for my extremely creative title  
> Requested on Tumblr by @sundry-whovengerslocked

Arthur was raised in a castle in a kingdom called Camelot. His favourite pastimes were riding his horse and tormenting the manservant that worked for him. His name was Merlin, but he never called him that. Nothing gave Arthur as much pleasure as ordering Merlin around. 

"Idiot, polish my horse's saddle," he'd say. "I want to see my face shining in it by morning."

"You clotpole," Merlin would respond with a roll of his eyes.

'You clotpole' was all Merlin ever said to him. Arthur would never notice the small smile Merlin gave him after he'd turn his back.

One day, Arthur approached Merlin with two empty buckets.

"Idiot," he said, "fill these with water. Please?" he added when he saw the look in Merlin's eyes.

"You clotpole," Merlin said, just as he always did, but this time smiling at Arthur in a way he'd never seen.

That day, Arthur was amazed to discover that when he was saying, 'You clotpole,' what he meant was, 'I love you.' And even more amazing was the day he realised he truly loved him back. 

On that day, as Merlin was about to leave Arthur's chambers to start his next set of chores, Arthur stopped him.

"Idiot," he said, shyly, "fetch me that pitcher."

The pitcher was not but two feet from where Arthur was, but still, Merlin, in a seductively slow stroll towards where Arthur sat, fetched the pitcher. And when he handed it over to Arthur, he said in a lovingly low whisper, with a passionate look in his eye and a smile upon his lips, "You clotpole."

Arthur couldn't help but smile back. That moment confirmed it to him for sure. From that day forward, Arthur and Merlin had started going on romantic outings. They had grown to love each other stronger than anyone could ever imagine. Merlin had even revealed his magic to Arthur, which only made Arthur love him more. There were now no secrets between them. It had truly felt like nothing could separate them. 

They had both discussed their desire to get married, but there were a few problems. The major one being that Arthur was a prince and Merlin was a manservant—a magical one, at that. King Uther, Arthur's father, had a deep hatred and mistrust of magic and those who wield it. He would never allow the two of them to marry, so they discussed secretly buying a farm in a village outside of Camelot. That lead to problem number two: Arthur couldn't use his father's money to buy a farm, especially not one outside the kingdom, unless he wanted to inadvertently cause a war (which Uther was bound to do), so buying the farm was up to Merlin.

Merlin had no money for a farm, so he packed his few belongings and left the castle to seek his fortune across the sea. It was a very emotional time for Arthur. 

"I fear I'll never see you again," Arthur said as he hugged Merlin goodbye. 

"Of course you will," Merlin told him.

"But what if something happens to you?"

Merlin pulled away from the hug. "Hear this now," he said. "I will always come for you."

"But how can you be sure?" Arthur asked. 

"This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?" 

Arthur wasn't sure how Merlin could have so much faith. Even with his magic, there were a number of creatures out there that were bound to be more powerful than him. But Merlin had nothing but confidence twinkling in his eyes, and if he was so sure that he was going to survive to see Arthur again, then Arthur would have faith, too. He smiled at Merlin, and they kissed goodbye.

Three weeks later, Arthur's sister, Morgana, entered the stables, where he'd been brushing his horse, with a message from her maidservant, Guinevere, and tears in her eyes. He felt his heart drop to his stomach; he knew that if Morgana was crying, it had to be something bad.

Then she told him: Merlin didn't reach his destination.

"His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Williams," Morgana had told him.

Arthur knew of the Dread Pirate Williams; everyone knew of the Dread Pirate Williams. He never left captives alive. 

When Arthur got the news that Merlin was murdered, he went into his chambers and shut the door. And for days, he neither slept nor ate.

"I will never love again."

* * *

Five years later, the main square of Camelot City was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great Prince Arthur's bride-to-be. Unknown to them was the fact that King Uther was forcing his son to marry against his will. 

The bugles sounded the arrival of the King, and Uther stepped out to make the announcement.

"My people, a month from now, our kingdom will have its 300th anniversary. On that sundown, my son, Prince Arthur, shall marry a lady who is considered to be the most beautiful in all the land. And you shall share our opinion in her beauty now. Would you like to meet her?"

The crowd cheered. How could they not want to meet the most beautiful lady in all the land? 

"My people," Uther announced, "the Princess Vivian!"

Music started playing again as Princess Vivian made her appearance. The crowd bowed down to her with respect. Arthur, from his place upon the tower behind his father, stared at the princess with dead eyes.

Arthur's emptiness consumed him. Although the law of the land gave Uther the right to choose his son's bride, he did not love Vivian. Despite Uther's reassurance that he would grow to love her, the only joy he found was in his daily ride. And on his ride on the day of the marriage announcement, Arthur was interrupted by three men.

"A word, My Lord?"

The man who had addressed him was an older man with black hair, and looked to be the leader. The man standing next to him was an attractive Spaniard with an elegant-looking sword, and the man next him, tall with muscles like Arthur's never seen before. 

"We are but poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

Arthur, ever the clueless man, told him, "There is nothing nearby, not for miles."

"Then there will be no one to hear you scream," the old man said as the large man approached Arthur. 

His heart raced; he'd never been taught how to fight, not even for self defence. 

Turns out, though, that it wouldn't have helped him to know how to fight, anyway, because all the large man had to do was squeeze Arthur's pressure point, and he was out like a flame in the wind.

* * *

Hours later, night had fallen, and they were on a boat in the middle of the sea. Arthur was growing more and more irritable by the second. How _dare_ they kidnap him?

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn," the elder announced to his team.

"Are you sure nobody's following us?" the Spaniard asked.

"That would be _inconceivable_." His boss rolled his eyes.

"Despite what you think," Arthur interrupted, "you will be caught. And when you are, the King will see you all hanged." 

"Of all the necks on this boat, My Lord," the leader said, "the one you should be worried about is your own."

Arthur looked away from him, and the Spaniard looked out into the distance.

"Stop doing that! We can all relax; it's almost over."

"You are sure nobody's following us?" the Spaniard asked again. 

"As I told you," the old man repeated, "it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, _inconceivable_. No one in Mercia knows what we've done, and no one in Camelot could have gotten here so fast...Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

"Because I happen to see a boat sailing in the same direction as us now."

"What?"

The old man ran up to where the Spaniard stood to get a better look, and the larger man peered over the side of the boat. None of them were focusing on Arthur. It was now or never.

"Probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night through eel-infested waters."

If Arthur had been paying any attention at all to what the man was saying, he wouldn't have done what he did. But, as it was, he _wasn't_ paying attention to what he said, so he dived into the sea. Fortunately, he was a strong swimmer, so he could hopefully swim to shore, wherever that might be. Surely, he could out-swim a few eels. Even with that _annoyingly_ loud shrieking in his ears.

"Do you know what that sound is, My Lord?" the man called out to him. "Those are the shrieking eels!"

Shrieking eels?

"If you don't believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!"

An eel swam past Arthur, and it was larger than any eel he'd ever seen before. Man-eating eels? This wasn't good. He'd made a big mistake.

"If you swim back now, I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt you'll get such an offer from the eels."

The shrieking grew louder as another eel swam past him. Then, another headed straight toward him. Arthur gasped. This was the end. He was going to die, eaten alive by giant eels. At least he'd get to be with his love now. 

But he was still frightened. The eel started to charge him, and then a fist smashed its head, and Arthur was pulled from the water.

"Put him down," the leader demanded.

He approached Arthur to tie up his hands. 

"I think he's getting closer," the Spaniard called out, speaking of the ship that was following them.

"He's no concern of ours. Sail on!" Then he turned back to Arthur. "I suppose you think you're brave, don't you?" 

"Only compared to some." 

* * * 

At daybreak, the Spaniard called out again. 

"Look! He's right on top of us!"

"Whoever he is, he's too late," the old man said. "See?"

Ahead of them, Arthur could see that they've just about reached land. 

"The Cliffs of Insanity!" He started instructing his team to get there faster.

Arthur just wished he could go back home. Or go to Merlin, in whatever afterlife he's in. He just didn't want to be here, and he didn't want to marry Vivian. Neither situation was desirable for him. 

When they got to shore, the old man spared a single glance at the ship following them before pulling Arthur along.

"We're safe. Only Percival is strong enough to go up our way. _He'll_ have to sail around for hours until he finds a harbour."

With that, they all got wrapped up to the giant's—Percival's—chest.

* * *

The man in black had been following that boat all night. They'd kidnapped a man. The Prince of Camelot, to be exact. What a laugh.

By the time he'd made it to shore, the kidnappers were already half way up the rope. He didn't have the upper body strength to climb up the rope for fun, let alone catch up with them. But he did have the magic. And, oh, what an advantage that was.

The man in black sped up the rope, gaining on the group ahead of him. They had made it to the top, but he was right behind them. Suddenly, he felt the rope slip, and it started falling away. They'd cut it. It was no problem for the sorcerer, though. He used is magic to make himself an expert rock climber...Or maybe just strong enough to hold himself up. He must've used the wrong spell; he was still a substandard climber. 

"Hello there!" one of kidnappers called down to him. He looked up, and the man waved. "Slow going?"

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me."

The sorcerer went back to climbing, trying to think of the correct spell to help him finish quicker, when the man above called out to him again.

"I don't suppose you could speed things up?" 

He was starting to get annoyed. "If you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope or a tree branch, or find something useful to do." 

"I could do that," the man said. "I've got some rope up here. But I do not think you would accept my help, since I am only waiting around to kill you."

"That does put a damper on our relationship."

"But I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top."

"That's very comforting, but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."

"I could give you my word as a Spaniard," he said.

"No good," the man in black grunted. "I've known too many Spaniards."

"Listen, I have to catch up with my team. Is there any way you'll trust me?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

"I swear on the soul of my father, Domingo du Lac, you will reach the top alive."

His father? Well...

"Throw me the rope."

The Spaniard threw him down the rope and helped pull him to the top.

"Thank you," said the sorcerer.

"We'll wait until you're ready."

He was referring to the fight. Because he wanted to kill him. Oh, how foolish of the Spaniard. 

"Again, thank you."

He sat down to catch his breath and empty the rocks from his boots.

"I do not mean to pry," the Spaniard started, "but you don't, by any chance, happen to have six fingers on your right hand?"

That was...odd. "Do you always begin conversations this way?"

"My father was slaughtered by a six-fingered man."

The man in black held up his right hand, revealing only five fingers.

"He was a great sword maker, my father," the Spaniard continued. "When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special sword, my father took the job. He slaved a year before he was done."

He held out his sword to the other man. It was beautiful. The hilt was covered in elegant, gold decor. He reached out to grab it. 

"I've never seen its equal."

It truly was gorgeous. He handed it back to the Spaniard.

"The six-fingered man returned and demanded it, but at one-tenth his promised price. My father refused. Without a word, the six-fingered man slashed him through the heart. I loved my father, so, naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel. I failed. The six-fingered man left me alive, but he gave me these." He pointed to scars on both his cheeks. 

"How old were you?"

"I was eleven years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing. So, the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, 'Hello. My name is Lancelot du Lac. You killed my father. Prepare to die.'"

The man in black looked at Lancelot. "You've done nothing but study swordplay?"

"More pursue it than study, lately." Lancelot sat down next to him. "You see, I can't find him. It has been twenty years now; I'm starting to lose my confidence. I just work for Agravaine to pay the bills. There's not a lot of money in revenge."

"Well, I certainly hope you find him someday," he said, standing up.

"You ready, then?"

"Whether I am or not, you've been more than fair."

"You seem like a decent man. I hate to have to kill you."

 _"You_ seem like a decent man. I hate to have to die."

They smirked at each other. Then Lancelot began the fight. 

It began simple enough. Both men lightly swung their swords in a playful nature. They kept up conversation during the fight, and Lancelot looked like he thought he was going to win. But then the sorcerer used his magic to make the metal of his sword burn to the touch, and when Lancelot dropped it in pain, the man's magic flung the sword out of the Spaniard's reach.

"You have magic."

The sorcerer smirked. Lancelot got down to his knees and asked that the man kill him quickly.

"I would as soon destroy a stained-glass window as an artist like yourself," he said. Lancelot was a good fighter, and he felt for the man, too. He wanted to let him get revenge for his father. "However, since I can't have you following me, either..." He used a spell to make Lancelot fall unconscious. "Please understand, I hold you in the highest respect."

The man ran off in search for the other three. As he slowed to a stop to look around for the others, a rock smashed into the boulder beside him. He looked in the direction the rock came from and saw the large man from earlier picking up another rock. 

"I did that on purpose," he said. "I didn't have to miss."

"I believe you. So what happens now?"

"We face each other as God intended. Sportsmanlike. No tricks. No weapons. Skill against skill alone."

"You mean, you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword, and we'll try to kill each other like civilised people?"

"I can kill you now," the giant smirked. 

"Frankly, I think the odds are slightly in your favour at hand-fighting." He put his sword down.

"It's not my fault for being the biggest and the strongest." He tossed the rock behind him. "I don't even exercise."

The fight started. The man in black _really_ did not have time for all these petty battles. He needed to get to the Prince. If they were to fight as God intended, and God gave him magic to use at his will, then... 

With a flash of his eyes, a rock from the distance hit the giant on the back of his head, and he collapsed. Perhaps it wasn't very sportsmanlike, but he was on a mission. 

"I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake."

* * *

Arthur was blindfolded and sat down on a large, flat rock next to his kidnapper—Agravaine, he learned his name was. A dagger was held to his neck as they waited for the man in black. Eventually, he arrived.

"So, it is down to you," Agravaine said, "and it is down to me. If you wish him dead, by all means, keep moving forward." 

"Let me explain," the other man said. 

"There's nothing to explain. You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen."

"Perhaps an arrangement can be reached?"

 _Why?_ Arthur thought. _Why does this man want me? He can't possibly know who I am._

Agravaine applied more force to the blade against his neck. "There will be no arrangement, and you're killing him."

"Well, if there can be no arrangement, then we are at an impasse."

"I'm afraid so. I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains."

"You're that smart?" the man asked.

"Let me put it this way," Agravaine said. "Have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?"

"Yes."

"Morons."

"Really? In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits."

"For the Prince?" There was a silence in which Arthur assumed the man had nodded. "To the death?" Another silence. "I accept." 

"Good," the man said, "then pour the wine."

Arthur heard the sound of wine pouring and someone sitting down. The other man was sitting right across from them, from what Arthur could guess. 

"Inhale this, but do not touch," he said.

"I smell nothing."

"What you do not smell is called iocane powder. It is odourless, tasteless, dissolve instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man."

"Hmm."

Arthur heard the man grab the goblets. Then he heard Agravaine chuckle. 

"All right. Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide, and we both drink and find out who is right and who is dead."

"But it's so simple," Agravaine said. "All I have to do is divine from what I know of you. Are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or his enemy's? Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I'm not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool. You would've counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You've made your decision, then?"

"Not remotely." 

Arthur mentally rolled his eyes.

"Because iocane comes from the Perilous Lands, as everyone knows, and the Perilous Lands are entirely peopled with criminals, and criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. "

"Truly, you have dizzying intellect," the man said.

"Wait until I get going!" Agravaine exclaimed. "Where was I?"

"The Perilous Lands."

"Yes. The Perilous Lands. And you must have suspected I would have known the powder's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're just stalling now."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong, so you could've put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you've also bested my Spaniard, which means you must've studied, and in studying, you must have learned that man is mortal, so you would've put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

"You're trying to trick me into giving away something. It won't work." 

"It has worked! You've given everything away. I know where the poison is."

"Then make your choice," the man demanded. 

"I will," Agravine said, "and I choose...What in the world can that be?"

Arthur heard shuffling which must've been the man turning his back. Idiot. 

"What? Where? I don't see anything."

"I could've sworn I saw something. No matter." Agravaine chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink, me from my goblet and you from yours." 

Arthur heard them both take a sip. Agravaine chuckled, and the man said, "You guessed wrong."

No. Agravaine was right in switching the goblets. Now the man was going to die. But did Arthur really want this strange man taking him? He could be just as bad as Agravaine, if not worse. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion about who this man was, and if he was right, then he'd be better off with Agravaine.

"You only think I guessed wrong. That's what's so funny! I switched goblets while your back was turned! You fool, you fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Essetir, but only slightly less well known is this: Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!"

Agravaine laughed at the man mockingly, then went silent and keeled over. He died. That means the man must have known that Agravaine switched goblets and let him look a fool during his last moments of life.

The man removed the blindfold from Arthur.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked.

"I'm no one to be trifled with. That is all you ever need know." He cut the rope tying Arthur's hands together.

"To think," he said, "all that time, it was your cup that was poisoned."

"They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder."

The man pulled Arthur away, and they started their trek to God knows where. Eventually, the man tossed him against a rock bed.

"Catch your breath."

"If you release me," Arthur said, "whatever you ask for ransom, you'll get it, I promise you."

The man laughed. "And what is that worth, the promise of a helpless prince? You're very funny, Highness."

"I was giving you a chance. It doesn't matter where you take me. There is no greater hunter than King Uther. He can track a falcon on a cloudy day. He can find you."

"You think your father will save you? Bring you back to your dearest love?"

"I never said she was my dearest love, and yes, he will save me. That I know."

"You admit to me that you do not love your fiancée?" The man approached him.

Arthur felt himself go shy. "She knows I do not love her."

"Are not capable of love, is what you mean."

This made Arthur angry. "I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream."

The man raised a fist to him, and Arthur flinched away. He never hit him, though.

"That was a warning, Highness. The next time, my hand flies on its own, for where I come from, there a penalties when a man lies."

The he started pulling Arthur again, running to wherever he was taking him. After another long run, Arthur was tossed to sit again.

"Rest, Highness."

"I know who you are," Arthur said. May as well get it out of the way. "Your cruelty reveals everything. You're the Dread Pirate Williams. Admit it."

"With pride." He bowed. "What can I do for you?"

"You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces." 

Williams clicked his tongue at Arthur. "Hardly complimentary, Your Highness. Why loose your venom on me?"

"You killed my love."

"It's possible. I kill a lot of people. Who was this love of yours? Another princess like this one? Ugly, rich, and scabby?"

"No, a manservant. Poor. Poor and perfect. With eyes like the sea after a storm. On the high seas your ship attacked, and the Dread Pirate Williams never takes prisoners."

"I can't afford to make exceptions." He shrugged. "I mean, once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time."

"You mock my pain!"

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." The pirate stood and moved closer to the Prince. "I remember this manservant of yours, I think. This would be what? Five years ago? Does it bother you to hear?" 

"Nothing you can say will upset me," Arthur replied.

"He died well." Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. "That should please you." It didn't. "No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said, 'Please. Please. I need to live.' It was the please that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important for him. 'True love,' he replied. And then he spoke of a man of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume he meant you. You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you _really_ are." 

"And what am I?"

"Faithfulness he talked of, sir. Your enduring faithfulness. Now tell me truly. When you found out he was gone, did you get engaged to your princess that same hour, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"

"You mocked me once. Never do it again!" Arthur shouted. "I died that day!"

Then, he heard the sound of horses galloping. Even from that far a distance, Arthur could see it was his father and a search party.

"You can die, too, for all I care!" Then he shoved Dread Pirate Williams down the hill they were standing on.

"YOU CLOTPOLE!"

* * *

Merlin landed at the bottom of the hill, and when he turned to the side, he saw Arthur land just a few feet away from him. That dollophead threw himself down the hill. He crawled over to check on his love. Merlin held Arthur in his arms.

"Can you move at all?" he asked. 

"Move? You're alive. If you want, I can fly."

The couple hugged, happy to have each other again.

"I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?"

Because, yes, Merlin was still hurt that Arthur was going to marry someone else. A woman of all things. He didn't know if that hurt him more or less than if he were to marry a man. It's why he said all those things. Because during the last five years, Merlin never looked at anyone else.

"Well, you were dead." 

"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

"I will never doubt again," Arthur said.

"There will never be a need," Merlin replied, then they kissed, deep and passionate. 

Arthur pulled away with a shove to Merlin's shoulder. "Have you really spent the past five years building an immunity to poison? What were you doing drinking poison, you idiot?"

Merlin laughed. "I haven't been. Have you forgotten about my magic?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You cheated," he laughed, because of course Merlin would. He pulled him into a kiss, then pushed him away again. "You threatened to hit me."

Merlin frowned. He had, hadn't he? Lost in the role of the Dread Pirate. He pulled away from Arthur and turned his back to him, ashamed.

"I'm not upset," Arthur said, placing a hand on his lover's shoulder.

"You should be."

"You didn't mean it."

"Doesn't excuse anything," Merlin insisted.

Arthur straddled his waist, bum resting against the man's knees. "You got lost in the role of a ruthless man. You didn't mean anything by it. I know you would never hurt me. I forgive you."

He pulled Merlin into another passionate kiss. Eventually, they pulled away from each other.

"Come on," Merlin said. "We have to get going."

"Where?"

"Well, we're going to have to evade your father if we ever want to get married." 

Arthur returned his smile, and they were on their way.

Merlin and Arthur raced along the ravine floor. They stopped when they saw Uther and his knights had caught up to them.

"Ha!" Merlin laughed. "Your pig father is too late. A few more steps and we'll be safe in the Fire Swamp."

He pulled Arthur along.

"We'll never survive."

"Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has." 

"Merlin!" Arthur scowled. Merlin only smiled in return.

With literally just a few more steps, they were trekking through the Fire Swamp. It was musty and filled with old, thick vines and creatures that squealed, croaked, and growled. 

"It's not that bad," Merlin said. Arthur looked at him, incredulously. "I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely."

They continued their walk, the nonstop nose of the swamp filling their ears. A flame spurt erupted, setting Arthur's trousers aflame. Arthur screamed in panic and tried to shake it out, but was unsuccessful, and Merlin used a spell to put it out. 

"Well, now, that was an adventure. Are you hurt? Burned?"

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin led him back down their path, all the while preventing Arthur from catching fire again.

"Well, one thing I will say, the Fire Swamp certainly does keep you on your toes." As they walked through the swamp, Merlin continued, "This will all soon be but a happy memory, because Williams' ship, Revenge, is anchored at the far end, and I, as you know, am Williams."

"But how is that possible, since he's been marauding twenty years and you only left me five years ago?" Arthur asked.

"I, myself, am often surprised at life's little quirks," he replied, and lifted Arthur away from another fire spurt. "See, what I told you before about saying 'please' was true. It intrigued Williams, as did my description of your beauty."

"He was attracted to men, too?"

"Oh, Arthur, there are a lot more men in this world like us than your father would like you to know." He could see Arthur's face turn sad and switched back to their earlier conversation. "Finally Williams decided something. He said, 'All right, Merlin. I've never had a valet. You can try it for tonight. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.' Three years, he said that. 'Goodnight, Merlin. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.' It was a fine time for me. I was learning to fence, to fight, anything anyone would teach me. I even met some sorcerers to help me strengthen my magic. I learned a lot about myself and my destiny. Our destiny to be married. And Williams and I eventually became friends. And then it happened."

"What?" Arthur asked. "Go on."

"Williams had grown so rich he wanted to retire, so he took me to his cabin and told me a secret."

Merlin lifted Arthur bridal style.

"'I am not the Dread Pirate Williams,' he said. 'My name is Elyan. I inherited the ship from the previous Dread Pirate Williams, just as you will inherit it from me. The man _I_ inherited to from was not the real Dread Pirate Williams either. His name was Gwaine. The real Williams has been retired fifteen years and living like a king in Tír-Mòr.' Then he explained the name was the important thing for inspiring the necessary fear. Because no one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Merlin."

He set Arthur down again.

"So, we sailed ashore, took on an entirely new crew, and he stayed aboard for a while, as first mate, all the time calling _me_ Williams. Once the crew believed, he left the ship, and I have been Williams ever since. Except now that we're together, I will retire and hand the name over to someone else. Do you understand now?" 

Arthur nodded. "Was this Elyan as in Guinevere's brother, Elyan?"

"Guinevere, the Lady Morgana's maidservant?" Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded again. "Yes, he ran off a few years before you arrived in Camelot. They look much a like, you couldn't miss the resemblance if you thought about it."

"Now that you mention it, there was something about him that I could never put my finger on. Perhaps that was it. He looked like Guinevere. How are Gwen and Morgana?"

Arthur shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't spoken to them in nearly half a year. They ran off together, like how you and I were going to. Except Morgana never feared Uther the way I do, so she stole enough gold from the royal vault for her and Gwen to live comfortably, and they left. We only write to each other twice a year so my father doesn't catch on and find them. But last we spoke, they seemed to be doing well."

Merlin smiled. "I knew there was something going on between them. Gwen always denied it, but she never knew how to hide her smile. I'm glad they're happy. Your father really seems to hate love, doesn't he?"

Arthur nodded again, expression strained. "Yes, he does."

Merlin caressed his face. "Don't worry about him anymore. He'll assume we're dead and not look for you anymore—nobody makes it out of the Fire Swamp—and we can finally be free to marry." 

Arthur nodded once more in agreement and walked ahead of Merlin. Unfortunately for him, he stepped onto a pile of lightning sand, which he immediately sunk into, quickly and completely, with a gasp. 

"Arthur!" Merlin called in a panic.

Without hesitation, he sliced a vine with his sword and used it as an anchor as he dived in after Arthur. He used his magic to find the man and quickly pulled them out of the sand. They both gasped for air, coughing sand out of their lungs. 

Merlin heard a growling and looked up to see a wilddeoren watching them hug from behind Arthur. Arthur didn't seem to hear it, and Merlin hoped he could keep it that way. He didn't want his clotpole to panic over it, and he was certain they could make it out of the swamp without getting attacked by one. Or, at least, he hoped. He heard another growl and turned to see another giant baby rat appear behind him.

"We'll never succeed," Arthur cried. "We may as well die here."

"No. No. We have already succeeded," Merlin comforted. He pulled Arthur up. "I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt. No problem. There's a popping sound preceding each. We can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, but you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that, too."

"Merlin, what about the R.O.U.S.s?" Arthur asked.

"Rodents of Unusual Size? I don't think they exist."

Ah, but of course, as soon as he said that, a wilddeoren had attacked him, tackling him to the floor. Merlin tried to fight it off of him. He needed to create some distance between it and him before he could use his magic on it. He wasn't sure if battle magic was effective with his opponent so close to him. During the battle, the wilddeoren managed to bite his right forearm. Then, it bit his left shoulder. He screamed in pain. Arthur hit it with a large stick, and the rodent removed itself from the sorcerer to attack him, instead.

"Merlin!"

There. That was the distance he needed. And he wasn't going to let that thing hurt Arthur.

_"Forbærne!"_

Merlin's spell set the rodent on fire, and while it was in its weakened state, he used his sword to finish the job, killing it dead. Relieved, Arthur hugged Merlin, who flinched in pain.

"Does it hurt?" Arthur asked, worriedly. 

"A bite from a giant baby rat? Oh, _hardly."_

Arthur glared at him. "Merlin, please."

"Just a bit. My magic is already working towards healing me. I can feel it. Don't worry."

With that, they walked along and finally made it out of the Fire Swamp. 

"We did it," Arthur said with obvious relief.

"Now, was that so terrible?" Merlin asked, sarcastically.

They leaned in to kiss each other when they heard a horse's neigh. Looking behind Merlin, they saw that King Uther had found them. 

"Surrender," Uther demanded. 

"You mean, you wish to surrender to me?" Merlin mocked. "Very well. I accept."

"I give you full marks for bravery," Uther said. "Don't make yourself a fool."

"But how will you capture us? We know the secrets of the Fire Swamp. We can live there quite happily for some time, so whenever you feel like dying, feel free to visit."

"I tell you once again, surrender!"

"It will not happen." 

"For the last time," Uther shouted, "surrender!"

"Death first!" Merlin shouted back. He was not leaving Arthur.

"Will you promise not to hurt him?" Arthur cut in.

"What was that?" both Uther and Merlin asked.

"If we surrender, and I return with you, will you promise not to hurt this man?"

"May I live a thousand years and never hunt again."

"He is a sailor on the pirate ship _Revenge_ _,"_ he said. "Promise to return him to his ship." 

"I swear it will be done."

How could Arthur do this? Just agree to leave Merlin after all they've been through. He'd stayed alive all these years just to get back to him, and he so easily and willingly abandoned him again. Maybe he was right to say what he did earlier. Perhaps Arthur wasn't faithful like he claimed.

As if reading his mind, Arthur said to him, "I thought you were dead once, and it almost destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again, not when I could save you. You've saved me far too many times to count, Merlin. Let me do this."

Before Merlin could reply, Uther whisked Arthur onto his horse and rode away. 

"Come, sir," he heard someone say. He looked up to see Count Cenred, one of Uther's most trusted advisors. "We must get you to your ship."

Merlin was brought forward by the knights surrounding him. He knew he wasn't going to his ship.

"We are men of action," he said. "Lies do not become us."

"Well spoken, sir." 

As his arms were getting tied up, Merlin noticed something. 

"What is it?" Cenred asked. 

"You have six fingers on your right hand. Someone was looking for you."

Then, he was hit on the head and knocked unconscious. 

* * *

When Merlin awoke, he was in a cavern of some sort. An old man with long, white hair was tending to his wound. 

"Where am I?"

"The Pit of Despair," the man answered. "Don't even think about trying to escape. The chains are far too thick. And don't dream of being rescued, either. The only way in is secret. Only the King, the Count, and I know how to get in and out."

"Then I'm here till I die?" Merlin asked. 

"Until they kill you, yes."

"Then why bother curing me?"

"The King and the Count always insist on everyone being healthy before they're broken," the man told him.

"So, it's to be torture?"

The man gave him a strained nod. 

"I can cope with torture."

The man shook his head in disagreement. 

"You don't believe me?" Merlin asked. 

"You survived the Fire Swamp," he said. "You must be very brave. But _nobody_ withstands the machine. The best I can do is give you a potion to numb the pain before it starts."

Then he left Merlin on his own.

* * *

Arthur walked sadly through the castle corridors. How could he have lost Merlin again? He finally got him back! And his father had to ruin it. Couldn't let him be. He wasn't sure what hurt more: thinking Merlin was dead, or knowing he's alive and never being able to see him again, forced to marry a woman he does not love. 

* * *

_That night, the King died, and before the following dawn, Arthur and Vivian were married. And at noon, they met their subjects again, this time as King and Queen. The bugles played their fanfare as the two walked down a path lined with flowers. The citizens bowed to them._

_"Boo!" a woman shouted from the distance._

_Arthur looked for where it came from, and an old woman came into view. He recognised her as the old Mary Collins. She booed twice more._

_"Why do you do this?" Arthur asked._

_"Because you had love in your hands, and you gave it up!"_

_"But they would've killed Merlin if I hadn't done it."_

_He couldn't this old woman was disrespecting and outing him to the entire kingdom. Well, perhaps he outed himself when he called Merlin by name specifically. Or maybe everyone already knew before today. But she still disrespected him. And if this old woman, who Arthur never spoke to, knew who his true love was, then perhaps the whole kingdom already knew he was in love with a man._

_"Your true love lives, and you marry another! True love saved him in the Fire Swamp, and he treated it like garbage. And that's what he is, the king of refuse! So bow down to him if you want, bow down to him. Bow to the king of slime, the king of filth, the king of putrescence! Boo! Boo! Rubbish! Filth! Slime! Muck! Boo! Boo! Boo!"_

* * *

Arthur awoke with a gasp. It was ten days till the wedding. The King still lived, but Arthur's nightmares were growing steadily worse. He had to do something.

"It comes to this," he said, entering the King's chambers. "I love Merlin. I always have. I know now, I always will. If you tell me I must marry Vivian in ten days, please believe I will be dead by morning."

Uther stared at his son, and Arthur stared right back. He had to understand the Arthur couldn't do this. Couldn't marry someone he didn't love. 

"I could never cause you grief," Uther said, at last. "Consider the wedding off." He looked at Cenred, who was standing off to the side. "You, uh, returned this Merlin to his ship?" 

"Yes."

"Then we will simply alert him. My son, are you certain he still wants you? After all, it was you who did the leaving in the Fire Swamp. Not to mention that pirates are not known to be men of their words." 

"My Merlin will always come for me," Arthur stated. 

Uther nodded. "I suggest a deal. You write four copies of a letter. I'll send my four fastest ships, one in each direction. The Dread Pirate Williams is always close to Camelot this time of year. We'll run up the white flag and deliver your message. If Merlin wants you, bless you both. If not, please consider Vivian as an alternative to suicide. Are we agreed?"

Arthur nodded in agreement. His father was being uncharacteristically cooperative, and he was glad for it. He could finally be happy, and his father was supportive of it.

What Arthur didn't know, though, was that Uther had no intention of sending the letters, and that because of this interaction, he was now planning his son's murder.

* * *

Merlin was tied down to a table on wheels. He knew the torture was about to begin. The old man began connecting Merlin to the torture machine with suction pumps against his skin.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Cenred said. "Took me half a lifetime to invent it. I'm sure you've discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain. At present, I'm writing the definitive work on the subject. So, I want you to be totally honest with me on how the machine makes you feel. This being our first try, I'll use the lowest setting."

Cenred pulled a lever, and water started turning a wheel. That wheel turned another, which turned another, and soon Merlin could feel his muscles convulsing. His breath knocked out of his chest. It was painful. It was very painful. The machine turned off, and Merlin could breathe again.

"As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. Really, that's all this is, except that instead of sucking water, I'm sucking life. I've just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don't know what that would do to you. So, let's just start with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest. How do you feel?"

Merlin whimpered. 

"Interesting."

* * *

After a few days of waiting for a reply from Merlin, Arthur decided to ask his father about it. When he entered his father's chambers, he saw that he was meeting with the First Knight, Sir Leon.

"Any word from Merlin?" he interrupted.

Both men looked at Arthur.

"Too soon, my son," Uther said. "Patience."

"He will come for me," Arthur insisted. He knew he would.

"Of course."

With that, Arthur left, continuing his wait for Merlin's reply.

He didn't hear his father commanding Sir Leon to arrest everyone in Thieve's Forest on the day of his wedding.

* * *

The day of the wedding arrived. The Knights of Camelot had their hands full carrying out Uther's orders.

Lancelot was hiding from the chaos behind an old building, ready to fight, should anyone try to take him. He'd already been injured, but he would not go down easily. He had his orders to wait for Agravaine, and he would not disappoint.

"Ho, there!" A knight appeared from the side of the building.

"I will not budge," Lancelot said. "Keep your 'Ho, there.'" 

"But the King gave orders."

Lancelot swung his sword at the man. 

"So did Agravaine. When a job goes wrong, you go back to the beginning. Well, this is where we got the job, so it's the beginning. And I am staying until Agravaine comes."

"You, Brute," the man called to someone behind him, "come here!"

"I am waiting for Agravaine," Lancelot said, slowly, as it was clear this man _did not_ understand. 

Two large hands grabbed Lancelot.

"You surely are a mean one," a familiar voice said.

Lancelot looked up and saw Percival.

"Hello," Percival greeted. 

"It's you."

"True."

Percival then punched the knight that was approaching them, knocking him unconscious. Lancelot smiled, glad to have him back. 

"You don't look so good," Percival said. 

"Perhaps not, but I feel fine."

Though, when Percival let him go, he collapsed.

Percival and Lancelot were reunited, and as Percival nursed his injured friend back to health, he told Lancelot of Agravaine's death and the existence of Count Cenred, the six-fingered man. Considering Lancelot's life-long search, he handled the news surprisingly well (by falling unconscious and hitting his head against the table).

Percival took great care in reviving Lancelot (by roughly dunking him into buckets of cold water).

"That's enough! That's enough!" Lancelot coughed, finally awake. "Where is this Cenred now, so I may kill him?"

"He's with the King in the castle. But the castle gate is guarded by thirty men."

That was no good. Lancelot kicked a table. He needed a plan to get his revenge, but what?

"How many could you handle?"

"I don't think more than ten," Percival told him, regretfully.

"Leaving twenty for me. At my best, I could never defeat that many." He sat down, upset. "I need Agravaine to create a plan. I have no gift for strategy."

"But Agravaine is dead."

"No, not Agravaine," Lancelot said, plan forming in his mind. "I need the man in black."

"What?"

"Look, he has magic. He bested your strength and my sword. He must have outthought Agravaine somehow, with or without magic. And a man who can do that can plan my castle onslaught, any day. Let's go."

"Where?"

"Find the man in black, obviously."

"But you don't know where he is."

"Don't bother me with trifles. After twenty years, at last, my father's soul will be at peace. There will be blood tonight!" 

* * *

On the day of his wedding, Arthur entered his father's chambers.

"Ah, Arthur!" Uther grabbed his son by the shoulders. "Tonight, you marry." He turned to Sir Leon. "Tomorrow morning, your men will escort the Prince and his wife to Camelot Channel, where every ship in my armada waits to accompany them on their honeymoon."

"Every ship but your four fastest, you mean," Arthur said. 

Uther's smile faltered. 

"Every ship but the four you sent." 

"Yes. Yes, of course," Uther replied, nervously. "Naturally, not those four." 

Leon cleared his throat. "Your Majesty," he excused himself, sensing the tension. 

"You never sent the ships. Don't bother lying. It doesn't matter. Merlin will come for me anyway."

"You're a silly boy."

"Yes, I am a silly boy, for not having seen sooner that you are nothing but a coward with a heart full of fear."

Uther angrily snapped his dagger back into its sheath.

"I would not say such things if I were you."

"Why not? You can't hurt me. Merlin and I are joined by the bonds of love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds. And you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords. And when I say you're a coward, that is only because you are the slimiest weakling to ever crawl the earth!"

Uther grabbed Arthur's arm in anger and pulled him out of his chambers. 

"I would not say such things if I were you!"

Arthur struggled in his grip.

"Why not? Because you know I'm right? Because you know that no good father would ever treat his son this way, and you're ashamed. And you should be ashamed! You've never been a good father, and you never will be! It's no wonder Morgana ran away! It's no wonder I have no desire to ever be near you! Your attitude has lost you your children. You should be ashamed of yourself! Let go of me!"

His father shoved him into his own chambers and locked him inside.

* * *

Merlin had been strapped to the table for days. He was too weak to use his magic to escape. He heard footsteps enter the pit, then Uther Pendragon was leaning over him.

"You truly love each other, and so you might have been truly happy," he said. "Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say. And so I think no man in a century will suffer as greatly as you will. You have corrupted my son, and now, you will pay."

Uther pulled the lever to start the torture machine, and Merlin heard Cenred shout, "Not to fifty!" before he felt the worst pain he'd ever experience. He couldn't feel anything but the pain. All five of his senses were focused solely on the pain. He couldn't even feel his magic fighting to save him. So Merlin did the only thing he could.

Scream.

* * *

Lancelot and Percival were walking through the lower town of Camelot when Lancelot heard a noise.

"Percival," he called. "Percival, listen. Do you hear it? That is the sound of ultimate suffering. My heart made that sound when Cenred slaughtered my father. The man in black makes it now."

"The man in black?"

"His true love is marrying another tonight, so who else has the cause for ultimate suffering?" He tried to make his way through the crowd to follow the noise, but was unsuccessful. "Percival, please?"

Percival shouted to clear the way, and everyone moved aside. They made it so the woods, where they found an old man pushing a wheelbarrow. 

Lancelot held his sword to the man's neck. "Where is the man in black? You get there from this grove, yes?"

The man stayed silent.

"Percival, jog his memory."

Percival hit the man on the head, knocking him unconscious. 

"I'm sorry, Lancelot. I didn't mean to hit him so hard."

"No matter. They must be holding him nearby. We just have to look." 

They looked around a bit when Percival noticed something. 

"Lancelot, look. This tree has a carving unlike the others."

He thrust his fist against the tree, and it opened up. The carving was a door.

"Percival, you genius!" Lancelot cheered. "Let's go!"

They entered the tree into what looked like a dungeon. They found the man in black, shirtless, maskless, laying lifelessly on a table. They raced over to him to check for a pulse.

"He's dead," Percival announced. 

"This isn't fair," Lancelot said. "Well...The du Lacs have never taken defeat easily. Come on, Percival. Bring the body."

He turned to leave.

"The body?" his friend asked, confused.

"Have you any money?"

"A little. Why?"

"Let's hope it's enough to buy a miracle."

* * *

The men carried the lifeless body to a little shack deep in the woods, where the old man, Kilgharrah, the magical healer, resided. Lancelot knocked on his door.

"Go away!"

He knocked again, not stopping until the healer opened the door. The man had scaled skin and an angry face.

"What is it? What do you want?"

"Are you the Miracle Kilgharrah who worked for the King for all those years?"

"The King tried to have me executed," Kilgharrah said. "Thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it? We're closed!"

He shut the door in their faces, and Lancelot knocked again. 

"Leave me alone, or I will turn you into a toad."

"Please," Lancelot said. "We need a miracle. It's very important."

"Look, I'm retired," the old man said. "And besides, why would you want someone the King tried to execute? I might kill whoever you wanted me to miracle."

"He's already dead."

"Oh, he is? I'll take a look. Bring him in."

They carried the sorcerer into the shack and laid him down on the table. Kilgharrah examined him.

"I've seen worse," he said, and continued his examination, incredibly slowly.

"Sir?" Lancelot asked. "We're in a terrible rush."

"Don't rush me, young swordsman. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles. Do you have money?"

"Just a handful of bronze pieces."

Kilgharrah scoffed. "I never worked for so little, except once, and that was a very noble cause."

"This is noble, sir," Lancelot said. "His wife is crippled. His children are on the brink of starvation."

"Are you a rotten liar."

"I need him to help avenge my father, murdered twenty years ago." 

"Your first story was better," Kilgharrah said. " He probably owes you money, doesn't he? Well, I'll ask him."

"He's dead. He can't talk."

"Do not presume to know as much. It just so happens that your friend, here, is only _mostly_ dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Please open his mouth."

Lancelot did as told. Kilgharrah inserted a device into the man's mouth and started working it. 

"Now, mostly dead is slightly alive. Now, all dead...Well, with all dead, there's usually only one thing you can do."

"What's that?" Percival asked.

"Go through his clothes and look for loose change."

Lancelot rolled his eyes. The healer removed the device from the sorcerer's mouth.

"Hey!" he shouted at the man. "Hello in there! Can you hear me? What's so important? What do you have that's worth living for?"

He applied pressure to the sorcerer's belly, who slowly drew out, "True love."

"True love! You heard him. You could not ask for a more noble cause than that."

"Well, true love is the greatest thing in the world," Kilgharrah said. "but that's not what he said. He distinctly said, 'To blave.' And as we all know, 'to blave' means 'to bluff.' So you're probably playing cards and he cheated..."

"Liar!" a child's voice shouted. A young boy entered the room. "'True love.' He said, 'true love,' father."

"Don't say another word, Aithusa."

"He's afraid," he told the men. "Ever since King Uther tried to execute him, he's been afraid to work."

"I told you to never say that name!"

"What, Uther? Uther! Uther! True love lies expiring, and you don't have the decency to say why you won't help. Father, you cannot let this man die because of your fear of Uther!"

"This is Arthur's true love!" Lancelot announced. "And he is a sorcerer, like yourself. If you heal him, he will stop the royal wedding, and you know how Uther feels about to men in love. And about sorcerers, firsthand!"

"So, I make him better, and Uther suffers?"

"Humiliations galore."

Kilgharrah laughed in joy. _"_ _T_ _hat_ is a noble cause. Give me the bronze pieces. I'm on the job." 

Aithusa cheered. Kilgharrah worked on a paste, the end product being a paste brown in colour. 

"That's a miracle drug?" Lancelot asked.

"The chocolate flavour makes it go down easier," Aithusa said. "My idea!" He smiled.

"But you have to wait fifteen minutes for full potency," Kilgharrah told him.

The child continued, "And you shouldn't go in swimming after for at least...What?"

"An hour," his father finished.

They gave Lancelot the potion, and he left with Percival trailing behind him, the man in black in his arms.

"Thank you for everything."

The pair waved them goodbye.

"Have fun storming the castle!" Kilgharrah called.

* * *

Less than fifteen minutes later, Lancelot and Percival were outside the castle walls with the still unconscious man in black.

"Lancelot," Percival said, "there's more than thirty."

"What's the difference?" Lancelot asked, struggling with the body. "We've got him. Help me."

They sat the sorcerer upright against the wall.

"We'll have to force feed him."

"Has it been fifteen minutes?" Percival asked.

"We can't wait. The wedding's in half an hour. We must strike in the hustle and bustle beforehand. Tilt his head back and open his mouth."

Percival did as told, and Lancelot fed the man the potion.

"How long do we have to wait before we know if the miracle works?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

As soon as he said that, the man's eyes opened.

* * *

"I'll beat you at your part. I'll take you both together!" Merlin shouted as soon as he awoke.

On either side of him were the thugs that he fought off weeks ago. If they were here for a rematch, he would give it to them, but he would not go easy. 

The large man covered Merlin's mouth with his hand to silence him.

"I guess not very long," he said, then removed his hand from Merlin's mouth.

"Why won't my arms move?" he asked.

"You've been mostly dead all day."

"We had Miracle Kilgharrah make a potion to bring you back," replied the Spaniard.

"Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where is Arthur?"

"Let me explain," the Spaniard—Lancelot, if Merlin remembered his name correctly—said. "No, there's too much. Let me sum up. Arthur is marrying Vivian in a little less than half an hour, so all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the Prince, and make our escape. After I kill Count Cenred."

"That doesn't leave much time for dilly-dallying."

"You just wiggled your fingers," the giant announced. "That's wonderful." 

"I've always been a quick healer," Merlin said, cautious not to tell them that his magic was working faster than the drug. "What are our liabilities?"

"There is but one working castle gate. Come on."

They lifted him to see over the wall. The gate was guarded heavily. 

"And it is guarded by sixty men."

"And our assets?"

"Your brains, Percival's strength, my steel, and your magic."

Merlin's eyes widened at this proclamation. "How do you know of my magic?"

"You used it to defeat us in battle," Lancelot responded. "Did you think we wouldn't remember? It was the only way we could get Kilgharrah to heal you; he's also a sorcerer and wants to see the King suffer."

"Either way, if that's all we have, this will be impossible," he said. "My magic is working on healing _me_ right now. I cannot use it for battle until I'm strong enough."

"We still have your brains."

"If I had a month to plan, maybe I could come up with something, but this..." He shook his head.

"You just shook your head," Percival said. "That doesn't make you happy?"

Merlin turned his head to face him. "My brains, his steel, and your strength against sixty men, and you thunk a little head jiggle is supposed to make me happy?"

Percival just smiled.

"If only we had a wheelbarrow," Merlin continued, "that would be something."

Lancelot and Percival looked at each other.

"Where did we put the wheelbarrow the old man had?" Lancelot asked.

"Over the old man, I think."

"Why didn't you list that among our assets in the first place?" Merlin sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a holocaust cloak."

"Well, there we cannot help you." Lancelot said.

Percival pulled something out of his shirt.

"Will this do?"

It was a holocaust cloak.

"Where did you get that?" Lancelot asked, surprised.

"At Kilgharrah's," Percival told him. "It fit so nice, he said I could keep it."

"All right, all right. Come on. Help me up."

They didn't have time to talk shopping. The men helped Merlin up, and he said, "Now, I'll need a sword, eventually."

"Why? You can't even lift one," Lancelot said.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "True, but that's hardly common knowledge, is it? Now, there may be problems once we're inside."

"I'll say. How do I find the Count? Once I do, how do I find you again? Once I find you again, how do we escape?"

"Don't pester him," Percival scolded, softly. "He's had a hard day."

"Right, sorry," Lancelot said. "But he is our brains. I do need to know."

* * *

"You don't seem excited, my son," Uther said to Arthur.

They were in Arthur's chambers, Arthur getting ready for his dreaded wedding. 

"Should I be?"

"Grooms often are. I remember _I_ was on _my_ wedding day."

"I will not marry tonight," Arthur insisted. "My Merlin will rescue me."

With that, Arthur left the chambers, leaving his father infuriated. He didn't see the smug smirk replace the frown.

* * *

Arthur and Vivian kneeled at the altar of the castle's chapel. In front of them stood Geoffrey of Monmouth, the wedding officiator. 

He motioned for them to rise, and started his speech. It was cut off by yelling from outside: Sir Leon instructing the knights to stand their ground. Geoffrey continued his speech over the noise. Arthur could hear the mumbled announcement of a man calling himself the Dread Pirate Williams, but it wasn't Merlin's voice.

What was going on? Was Merlin finally here to save him?

"Skip to the end," Uther demanded, annoyed.

Geoffrey listened. "Have you the ring?" 

The doors to the chapel clambered.

Arthur turned to his father. "Here comes my Merlin now."

"Your _Merlin_ is dead," he said. "I killed him myself."

No. True love always found a way.

"Then why is there fear behind your eyes?"

His father just stared at him and demanded they continued.

"Do you, Prince Arthur..." 

"Man and wife!" Uther shouted, speeding the wedding along. "Say, 'Man and wife!'" 

"Man and wife."

"Escort the groom to the honeymoon suite. His bride will be there shortly. I need to have a word with her."

Arthur couldn't believe his father had done this. Had forced the wedding along like this. Why couldn't he let him be happy? Now, he could never be with Merlin.

He was escorted away by his father's second wife, Catrina, and Vivian's father, King Olaf. They commented on how strange the wedding was, but thought nothing else of it. Arthur thanked them for being so kind to him, and announced he was going to kill himself. They didn't pay attention. He supposed that meant it was the right thing for him to do. The only thing for him to do.

Arthur entered the suite, slowly, and sat at the table by the window. He opened the case that held his dagger. It was supposed to be a wedding gift to his wife. Now, it was the instrument of his death. He pressed it against his chest. He was ready.

"There's a shortage of perfect pecks in this world," a familiar voice said. He turned to see Merlin laying on the bed. "It would be a pity to damage yours." 

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed. He ran over to the bed. "Oh, Merlin, my love."

He laid on top of his lover's body and pressed kisses all over his face and neck. Merlin kissed back when he could, but otherwise did nothing. 

"Merlin, why aren't you holding me?"

He needed Merlin to hold him. Needed to feel his arms around him. 

"Gently," Merlin warned.

"At a time like this? That's all you can think to say? 'Gently'?"

Arthur lifted his head to press a kiss against his lips, and Merlin repeated it again, this time with wide eyes and a panicked voice. Arthur dropped his head, which hit the board behind him. What was going on?

"Merlin, will you ever forgive me?"

"What hideous sin have you committed lately, clotpole?" 

"I got married," he said. "I didn't want to. It all happened so fast." 

"It never happened." Merlin shook his head.

"What?" 

"It never happened," Merlin repeated. 

"But it did, Merlin. I was there. Geoffrey of Monmouth _said,_ 'Man and wife.'" 

"Did you say, 'I do'?" 

Arthur blinked. "No. We sort of skipped that part. My father was in a hurry." 

"Then you're not married." Merlin smiled. "If you didn't say it, you didn't do it. Wouldn't you agree, Your Majesty?"

Arthur looked behind him to see his father and wife—not wife?—standing in the doorway. Vivian left, immediately.

"A technicality that will shortly be remedied," Uther said. "But first things first." He drew his sword. "To the death."

"No!" Merlin exclaimed. "To the pain." 

"I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase." 

"I'll explain. And I'll use small words, so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog-faced buffoon."

Uther closed his eyes, annoyed. "That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me."

"It won't be the last," Merlin stated, matter-of-factly. "'To the pain' means the first thing you lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrist. Next, your nose."

"And then my tongue next, I suppose? I killed you too quickly the last time, a mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight."

Uther stepped forward.

"I wasn't finished! The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right."

"And then my ears. I understand. Let's get on with it."

"Wrong!" Merlin exclaimed. "Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, 'Dear, God, what is that thing?' will echo in your perfect ears. _That_ is what 'to the pain' means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever."

The King stared at the sorcerer. "I think you're bluffing."

"It's possible, pig. I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I'm only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. Then again, perhaps I have the strength after all."

Slowly, Merlin stood up and drew his sword.

"Drop you sword," he demanded. Uther complied. "Have a seat." Again, Uther did as told. "Tie him up." Arthur grabbed the rope. "Make it as tight as you like." 

Arthur tied his father up tight. He was good with knots, had to be to keep his horse from running away in the woods during breaks. 

A man entered the room, and Arthur recognised him as one of the men who had kidnapped him.

"Merlin, that's the man—" Arthur started, but Merlin cut him off.

"Don't worry, he's a friend." 

"Where's Percival?" the Spaniard asked. 

"I thought he was with you," Merlin said.

"No."

"In that case..." Merlin nearly collapsed and used the chest to keep him up.

"Help him," the man instructed Arthur.

Arthur rushed to Merlin's side. "Why does Merlin need helping?"

"Because he has no strength."

"I knew it!" his father exclaimed. "I knew you were bluffing! I knew he was bluffing." 

The Spaniard pointed his sword at him, shutting him up quickly.

"Shall I dispatch him for you?" 

"Thank you, but no," Merlin said. "Whatever happens to us, I want him to live a long life, alone with his cowardice."

"Lancelot!" a voice called from outside. "Lancelot, where are you?" 

The three of them rushed to the window to see who it was. Arthur saw the giant that had been part of his kidnappers' group. He remembered him as Percival. 

"Oh, there you are," he said. "Lancelot, I saw the King's stables, and there they were: four white horses. And I thought, 'There are four of us, if we ever find the Prince.' Hello, Prince!" He waved at Arthur; Arthur waved back with a smile. "So I took them with me, in case we ever bumped into each other. I guess we just did."

"Percival," Lancelot said, "you're a genius."

"Don't worry, I won't let it go to my head." 

* * *

Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot stood at the open window, staring down at Percival, who had stolen four of the King's horses for them to escape with. He stood with his arms open, ready to catch them.

Arthur went first, and Merlin gestured for Lancelot to go next.

"You know, it's very strange," Lancelot started. "I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it's over, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life."

"Have you ever considered piracy?" Merlin suggested. "You'd make a wonderful Dread Pirate Williams." 

Merlin smiled, then jumped (more like fell) out the window, into Percival's arms. Lancelot followed after. They mounted their horses and rode away from the castle. 

They rode to freedom. And as dawn arose, Merlin and Arthur knew they were safe. A wave of love swept over them, and as they reached for each other...

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll have no idea how hard it was for me to write storm the castle instead of storm the capital. It's been less than a month since the insurrection, that shit's still fresh in my mind.  
> Also, I found Westley extremely attractive, so to have Merlin playing him just feels so right it's unbelievable.  
> At this point, I'm just ranting in the notes, but ANYWAY I hope you guys enjoyed this.


End file.
